


A Growing Experience

by katemiller



Series: The Little Pink Box Series [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katemiller/pseuds/katemiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly's Pregnancy</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

First Trimester, Part One:

“ _I’m never wrong.”_ Sherlock mumbled in his sleep against her stomach. She smiled down at him and ran her fingers through his curls. It had been about a week and a half since their trip to see John, confirming that Molly was indeed, pregnant.

She still had concerns about her and Sherlock becoming parents. What if their baby was beyond brilliant like Sherlock? She would never be able to keep up. She never kept us with Sherlock, but he was willing to wait for her. She could only imagine a teenaged Sherlock outsmarting his parents – Molly wasn’t sure she could handle that and wasn’t sure that Sherlock would want to. But what if their baby was more like her? Not that she didn’t believe she was smart – she was, she was a doctor for heaven’s sake! But she was nowhere near being on Sherlock’s level. If their baby was on her level, would Sherlock be able to relate? Would he even want to relate? Or would their child end up resenting their father because of his brilliance?

She shook her head as she pushed the thoughts to the back of her head, remembering Sherlock’s words to her, _“_ _Molly, I do not express my feelings with ease. But I do love you and I will love any children we have. You deal so well with me that if we have children like me, you will do just fine."_ _“_ _But what if they are, well,_ _normal_ _?"_ _"You mean, not a high functioning sociopath? Then I will be glad that they will be able to go through life much more easily than I."_ She just had to trust that he was right. Plus the excitement that he had over the pregnancy made her smile, easing some of the worry.

She lifted Sherlock’s head off of her stomach and crawled out of bed. She went to the bathroom and weighed herself, a new routine she had gotten into because Sherlock had asked. He wanted to keep track of her pregnancy in ways he could understand – hard facts, science. She wrote down her weight on the sheet next to the door. She was up half an ounce from the day before.

“I will lose that the next time I pee.” She rolled her eyes at the chart and went to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and found the left over Chinese food from the night before. She made herself a plate and stuck it in the microwave, putting the rest back in the fridge.

“Are you okay?!?” Sherlock swung open their bedroom door and stood with both hands on either side of the frame, his curls sticking up at weird angles, wearing a ratty pair of sleep bottoms, no top, and looking like a wild person.

“Yes.” Molly giggled at the sight of him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know, just wanted to make sure.” He dropped his arms down to his side and shrugged his shoulders. He wandered into the bathroom and looked at the chart. “Half an ounce.” Sherlock frowned.

“I know! Next time I go to the bathroom I’ll lose it again!” She turned to the microwave and pulled her plate out. She inhaled deeply and dug in, leaning against the counter. “Want some?” She asked around a mouthful.

“You need to eat more.” He walked over to the fridge and pulled out the rest of the left overs and started putting them on a plate.

“If you are thinking I am going to eat all that, you are mistaken.” Molly sat down at the table. “I’ve only been pregnant for a little over a month. I am on track.” Sherlock ignored her and put the plate in the microwave. “Seriously Sherlock, if you made that plate for me, I won’t eat it......all.” she added shyly. He smirked at her and joined her when his plate was warm. Molly finished all of her plate and ate a third of Sherlock’s.

“I’m going to shower.” She put her plate in the sink and walked back to the bathroom. She leaned over the tub and turned the water. She felt Sherlock’s hands on her waist.

“May I join you?” He asked as he pulled the shirt over her head. Molly blushed and nodded yes. “Why are you blushing?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and laid a trail of kisses down her neck, causing goose bumps to form on her shoulders and arms.

“You!” She rubbed her hands over his bare back and he slipped her shorts off her hips. 

“Me?” He asked, his lips still against her skin. She just nodded her head. “Why?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the great Mr. Sherlock Holmes? Shouldn’t you already know this?” She lifted her chin to give him better access to her neck as she pulled the string on his pants, untying them.  He brought his eyes up to meet hers, smiling

“It’s better to hear it from you.” He planted his lips on hers and dragged both of them into the shower.

 

“Shit!” Molly swore at the clock in a panic. “SHIT!” She could not find her other shoe and she was going to be late. “Sherlock, have you seen my other shoe?” She called.

“It’s out here.” He sounded painfully bored.

She grabbed her purse and did another check in the mirror to make sure her hair looked at least presentable. Deciding it looked okay, she shut off the light and hurried to the living room. She saw the shoe sticking out from under the couch and grabbed it, hastily shoving it on her foot.

“Molly, call me when something interesting comes in.” Sherlock tossed the newspaper across the room and frowned at his wife. She pursed her eyebrows together and stared at Sherlock. “Sorry.” He stood up and put a smile on his face – a rather genuine one considering the lack of murder. “I hope you have a good day and if by chance there happens to be an interesting case that comes in, would you mind calling me?” She shook her head at him, trying to hide her giggles.

“Thank you, I hope I have a good day too.” She kissed his cheek and started for the door. Sherlock cleared his throat and grasped his hands behind his back, looking up from under his curls. “Yes, I will call you if there is anything interesting.” At the moment Sherlock’s phone started vibrating. He grabbed it off the couch and looked at the screen.

“Lestrade.” His eyes moving back and forth reading the text. “He needs us both at Bart’s.”

Molly grabbed the small jar out of her purse. She opened the lid and smeared the clear jelly under her noise and above her lips, dampening her olfactory senses. The smell of the morgue – death and chemicals – had never bugged her before, in fact she had hardly noticed it. But a few days ago it had started making her sick to her stomach and giving her a head ache. She couldn’t very well take the whole next nine months off just because she didn’t feel good, so John and given Molly the clear jelly. Mary had used it during her pregnancy and found it worked the best.

“What?” Molly asked, noticing Sherlock watching her.

 “Nothing, I just thought I married a woman with a stronger stomach.” He laughed as he went to walk past her.

“Oh shut up you prat!!” She elbowed him in the stomach as he walked by. 


	2. Chapter 2

First Trimester, Part Two: 

"Three and a half pounds!" Sherlock shouted in triumph staring at the sheet next to the wall. 

"Yes, I have gained three and a half pounds. Granted I think it's because I justify my overeating by being pregnant." Molly continued to shove food in her mouth as Sherlock ran to the living room. 

"No, this is good!" Sherlock rummaged through the stuff on his desk. "Found it!" He grasped the tape measure in his hand and held it over his head. "You are about eight weeks along now with no morning sickness." He rushed back into the kitchen and knelt in front of Molly. He shoved his fingers in Molly's pants and tried to pull them down. 

" Uhh , Sherlock." Molly had her fork half way up to her mouth. 

" Mhm ?"He held the tape measure between his teeth. 

"What are you doing?" She sat her fork down and stared at her husband, wide mouth. 

"Measuring your thighs."  The tape measure feel out of his mouth and he looked up. "Too much?" 

"Maybe right now." She ruffled his curls. He got up and sat in the chair next to Molly. "Hungry?"

"No." He pouted. 

"When was the last time you ate?" She stood up, ignoring his negative response. 

"Before the case." He leaned back, eyes concentrated on Molly's thighs. 

"You finished it last night. Did you not eat after that?" She got down a plate and started filling it with left overs from last night's dinner (which apparently she had only eaten off of) and put it in the microwave. 

"No." His eyes moved up from her things to her butt. "Molly, I think your bum might be bigger." 

"What?" Her hands shot up and covered her butt. She turned around with a sad look on her face. 

"It looks fine." He pulled her towards him and wrapped the tape around her hips. "Yes! Bigger." He measured each of her thighs, her waist, and her bust. He got up and went to the bathroom to fill in the chart. Taking her body measurements were a once a week thing, unlike her weight and blood pressure, which was every day. "You are making good progress." 

When he came back into the kitchen his plate was on the table, ready for him. Molly stood with her back to him, at the sink. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. He leaned his cheek against her face and was surprised when one of her tears rolled over his face. 

"Molly, what's wrong?" He tilted his head away from her, trying to get a better view. 

"I have....a giant...bum now!" She sobbed between her sharp intakes of air. 

"No, it’s just slightly bigger." Sherlock rubbed her arms as she slowed down her breathing. "All well within the normal ranges for this stage in your pregnancy." He reached down and cupped her bum with his hands, eliciting a squeak from Molly's lips. "I like it." He let her go and sat down to eat his breakfast. 

"Really? It's not too big?" She tried to look over her shoulder at it. 

"Molly, please sit down and finish your breakfast." He said around a full mouth. 

"But,"

"Exactly, your butt looks great. Now sit." 

Since John had given Molly the no smell jelly stuff, her work was no longer interrupted by her needing to throw up the contents of her stomach in the nearest bin. Her work days were relatively pleasant, except when they weren't. 

" Mooooooollllllyyyy !" Sherlock's voice rang over the sound of her saw. She rolled her eyes not excited by what was to come next. She turned off the saw and stared as Sherlock and John walked in through the morgue doors. 

"Hi." She smiled softly at the two, trying to avoid the want to slap him for being so loud at her work place. 

"We need you to settle something for us." John smirked, while Sherlock was seething. 

"Okay...?" She looked between the two, scared about what she could possibly need to settle. She took off her goggles. 

"John believes that you would be rather upset if I bought a car without talking to you about it first." Sherlock couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice. 

"Sherlock thinks that if he did that you would be just fine with it." John chuckled light.

"Sherlock, dear, I wouldn't be upset." Molly nodded, pulling off her gloves. Sherlock smiled. "There aren't even enough words for how mad I would be at you...murder is the first one that does come to mind though." Sherlock stopped smiling. "Oh no. Please tell me you didn't buy a car without talking to me about it first?!" Molly yelled at him. 

"I can't tell you that that is something I didn't do." He looked like a five year old with his hand caught in the cookie jar. 

"He did. He so did. I watched him do it." John was having a grand old time at their expense. 

"You watched him do it?!" She turned her anger on him. "Why didn't you try and stop him!?" 

"ME? He's Sherlock! How was I supposed to do that?!" John defended himself. Sherlock smirked at him, glad to be out of the line of fire. 

“You wouldn’t have succeeded.” Sherlock told John. 

"WILLIAM SHERLOCK SCOTT HOLMES!" Molly turned back to him, her eyes burning. He took a step back as she yelled at him. "Just, get out." She turned around, and grabbed another pair of gloves, snapping them on her hands, ignoring the slight sting. 

"Molly, we can talk about this." 

"I said get out!" She yelled back over her shoulder. She heard them retreating and the sound of the morgue doors swinging shut. "Bloody Sherlock Holmes." She switched on her saw and started cutting again. 


	3. Chapter 3

Frist Trimester, Part Three: 

"Molly?" Sherlock stood in the doorway of their bedroom wrapped in a blanket. 

"What?" She snapped. She had just barely drifted off when he woke her again. 

"I'm cold." He sniffed as if to add more emphasis on it. 

"Then get another blanket." She rolled over to the middle of the bed, ignoring him. 

"Molly, this is ridiculous." He let all pretense drop out of his voice. "It’s been two weeks."

"You bought a car without talking to me about it!" She pulled the sheets on the bed around her tighter. 

"I returned it." He huffed. 

"After I told you to." She said through gritted teeth. "Go back to the couch. I'm still mad." She heard his footsteps retreating, then faster ones coming back towards her. She let out a little squeak as he pushed her over on to his side of the bed as he took over her warm spot. "Sherlock!"

"This is my bed too." He pulled some of the sheets away from her and settled into them, happy for the warmth. 

"Then you can have the cold side!" She pushed on his side. He moved so he was hovering over her. He smiled down at her and pushed her back to her side of the bed, collapsing when she was out of his way. "Thank you." She cleared her throat as the red rose in her cheeks. She rolled onto her side, so her back was to him. It may have been two weeks since she last let him _touch_ her but she was still mad. How could he think it was okay just to buy a car without asking her first? They were supposed to be a team. He didn't even - "Sherlock? What are you doing?"

His fingers were drawing circles along her spine. It was causing her to shiver, but she tried to ignore it. 

"Touching you."

"Stop." He stopped drawing and grabbed her by the waist pulling her snug against his front. He held his arms around her waist tight and intertwined his legs with hers. "Oh my gosh! Your feet are like ice pops!" 

"I told you I was cold." He whispered in her ear. He laid a trail of kisses across her shoulders. "You are going to have to forgive me eventually." She didn't reply. "Molly. I said I was sorry." She rolled so she was facing him. "I said I wouldn't do it again."

"I know. And I'll forgive you." She pressed her lips to his and enjoyed the rush that washed over her body. Two weeks was too long. "Eventually." She whispered as he climbed on top of her. 

She clawed at the bottom of his shirt, annoyed that he had even bothered to get dressed that morning. 

"You're going to hurt me if you continue like that." Sherlock gave a throaty laugh. He sat up on his knees, straddling her, and pulled the shirt over his head. He bent over slightly, pulling the shirt off of her.  He was talking his time, kissing her arms and collarbone, making her want for him even stronger. And it was killing her. His hands kept playing with the band on her pants.

"Just get on with it!" She groaned. So he did.   

* * *

 

"Okay." She sat down in John's old chair, across from Sherlock who was looking through the paper. "We can talk about it now."

"Talk about what?" He put the newspaper down with a raised eyebrow. 

"I forgive you for buying the car." 

"I thought you forgave me two weeks ago?" He asked, remembering how eagerly she had pulled at his clothes. 

"No. I said I would forgive you eventually." She told him. "I did not see the point in being angry with you _and_  not having sex." 

"So for the past two weeks you have just been using me for my body?" He tried to sound hurt, but it didn't work. She just shook her head at him. 

"Anyways. I forgive you for buying the car. Now, why did you buy it? Without taking to me about it?"

"It would be useful for when the baby comes." He shrugged. 

"Yes. I understand. But, did you honestly think I would be okay with you not talking to me about it?" Molly just could not understand what was going through his head. 

"I'll admit. Not my best move." He nodded. 

"And where were you going to keep it? There is no room around here." 

"Yes, about that. I was thinking maybe we should be moving. It really doesn't make sense to make John's old room into a nursery." 

"You want to leave Baker Street?" Molly's eyes were wide in shook. 

"I'll still keep it...as a sort of office, but I think we need more room." He said nonchalantly. 

"You didn't buy a house, did you?" She asked.

"No. I learned my lesson with the car." He picked up the newspaper and went back to reading it. 

"Okay..." Was all Molly could say. She wasn't sure what had just happened. She had figured that Sherlock wanted to live at Baker Street for the rest of his life - she had even pictured them growing old there together. She wasn't really sure what was happening to her husband. 

* * *

 

"Hi John.  It’s Molly." She sat in the office at Bart's glad John had picked up his mobile. "Are you with Sherlock by any chance?" She asked, hoping he wasn't. 

"No. I haven't seen him. He isn't ignoring his phone again, is he?" 

"No. I need to talk to you about him." Molly shuffled the papers around on her desk. 

"I've been wanting to talk to you too. He is acting weird...for Sherlock." 

"Well, he has been acting weird at home too....He wants to leave Baker Street." She heard a loud cracking noise which she assumed was his mobile hitting the ground. 

"Sorry, what!?! Did you just say he wants to leave Baker Street?" Obviously this hadn't been something Sherlock had talked to John about. 

"Yes. He wants us to get a house." She picked at her nails.  

"Well it does make more sense." 

"Yes it does. That’s why I don't understand why he is bringing it up!"

"MOLLY?" Sherlock's voice drifted into her office from the morgue. 

"I have to go. He's here." She hung up on John without another word. 

"There you are." He popped his head in, smiling brightly at his wife. "You hungry?" 

"Sure."


	4. Chapter 4

Second Trimester, Part One:

"This is nice." Molly wandered around the halls of a very empty new home; it still smelled like paint. She pulled her coat tight around her. It was the beginning of January and the house was cold.

Sherlock had been dragging her around for the last two weeks before and after her shifts at Bart's to look at homes. She was already getting tired of it. Every last one he had turned down, not even a nice thing to say about them. Some of the homes she had found rather charming, but Sherlock hadn't said one good thing about any of the homes they had been to visit. She had pointed out a few in the papers, but he shot her down saying he didn't even want to go visit them. She stopped trying to help.   

"Oh, Sherlock!" She had found herself in what she could see being her and Sherlock's new bedroom. It wasn't huge, but it had enough room for everything they needed. Molly could already picture it. "Come here!" He wore an expressionless face as he walked into the room. "Our bed could go here and maybe a chair in the corner for rocking the baby. And we could..." She stopped talking, knowing he wasn't really listening.  

"Not this one." He said simply and walked back out. He ignored the woman who had let them in and just strolled out.  

"Thank you." Molly rushed by trying to catch up with Sherlock. "What was wrong with that one?" She asked as he held open the door of the cab for her.  

"It wasn't right." He didn't expand his reasoning and the look he gave her told her she should probably shouldn't ask. They rode together in silence on the way back to their flat. Molly was so glad to be home. It had been a long day at work and Sherlock had taken her to see three more houses that night.  

"Finally!" Molly undid the button on her work trousers. They were getting a bit tight, but she could still fit into them, snuggly.  

"You need maternity clothes." Sherlock said as he watched her struggle out of her trousers.  

"Probably." She sighed as she tossed the trousers on the bed. They had been her biggest pair and she knew that if she had to struggle into them tomorrow, she might just cry. She slipped on her biggest pair of sleep clothes, but she knew that even those wouldn't fit in a few more weeks. "I'm going to make some tea and eat something. Do you want anything?" She asked as she made her way to the kitchen. She filled the kettle and got down a cup. "Sherlock?"  

"I'm going out." Sherlock flung his coat back on.  

"We just got home!" Molly cried as the door to their flat swung shut.  

 

* * *

 

"Here." Molly was in bed reading when Sherlock got home. He walked in and dropped five bags on the bed around her feet. His hair was sprinkled with fresh fallen snow.

She just looked at him, irritated. "Oh." He took the bags and sat them on the floor. He sat down in the chair that Molly had moved in despite his objections. "Not good?"  He asked as he ruffled the snow out of his hair.

"No. Not good." Molly closed her book and sat it on the table next to her. "You were grumpy all night while we were looking at houses. We come home and you leave without a word about where you are going and three hours later you waltz back in here."  

"Really not good?" Molly shook her head in agreement. "Couch?" He asked. 

"No!" Molly smiled at him. He smiled back. He slipped his shoes off and crawled up the bed to kiss her.  

"Sorry." He told her, she just kissed him again. "Let me show you where I was." He got off the bed and put the bags back up on the end. "I bought you clothes." 

"Sherlock, how do you know they will fit?" She looked from the bags up to his face. His eye brows where lifted at her in amusement. "Right. Should I try them on?" She got out of bed and stood next to him. 

"Yes." He said. She pulled her top off and pushed her bottoms down. Molly stood in her bra and panties. She was starting to bust out of the top of her bra and her growing bum was evident. "Maybe later." He eyed her greedily and started to pull her closer to him.  

"Oh, stop it!" She batted his hands away and started digging through the new clothes he had bought her.   

 

* * *

 

"Has he said anything to you?" Molly asked John as they waited for Sherlock. He had texted them both, instructing them that they were needed and he would be to the morgue in ten minutes.  

"No." John shook his head. "He doesn't say much right now. I would be grateful for it if I wasn't so worried that something was wrong."  

"He hasn't had one nice thing to say about any of the houses we have seen...John, it’s been a month." Molly sighed; she was getting tired of looking at every vacant home.  

"It’s been a month...since you two last...I think maybe you should talk to Mary about this one. I don't really need to know all about  _that._ " John finished awkwardly. Mary gave him a questioning look.  

"OH!" She finally understood. "Not that! We are just fine in  _that_  department."  

"Good. Good." John cleared his throat as his cheeks turned a slight pink.  

"No." She said again. "It’s been a month of looking at houses. If he had even one nice thing to say about one of them I would feel better." The door to the morgue flung open as Sherlock and Mycroft walked in.  

"Mycroft?" Molly looked at him confused. 

"The unknown body you have, we are pretty sure his is part of the...” Mycroft started, but Molly had stopped listening. 

She placed her hand on the small bump that was being accented by the stretchy shirt Sherlock and bought her. She stared down at her belly.  

"Molly, what's wrong?" Sherlock's voice was tense with fear.  

"Oh!" Molly smiled. "I just, I think I can feel the baby moving." There it was again. It almost felt like little light fast steps across her belly, a fluttering.  

"Isn't it a little early?" Mycroft rolled his eyes. "I feel like you just found out."  

"She's almost five months pregnant." Sherlock muttered and pulled Molly into his arms, kissing her.  

"Do please continue. It isn't like we have a matter of national importance hanging in the balance." Mycroft leaned on the table, looking annoyed.  

"Right." Molly tried pulling out of Sherlock's arms, but he just kissed her again, a giant smile plastered on his face.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Second Trimester, Part Two:

It was 2 am and Molly couldn't sleep. It was Friday night and Sherlock was out on a case with Mycroft. They hadn't been able to tell anything from the body that they had looked at three weeks ago.

Molly was lying on her back, drawing circles on her belly with her fingers. She was 19 weeks along. She had a doctor's appointment scheduled for the next week to find out if they were having a boy or girl. At the moment, he or she was not helping with Molly's sleeping issue. The baby kept moving. Sherlock had been growing more impatient about being able to feel the baby move since the first incident in the morgue. Even though he knew her pregnancy was progressing well within the normal range and that it could be up to another month before he was able to feel a kick, it still drove him crazy. But seeing as Molly was so slender, he was hoping it would be sooner. 

The flutterings stopped and Molly felt her eye lids growing heavy. Without any fight she closed her eyes and started to drift off. There was a slight bang and Molly's eyes flew open. She sat up and looked around, confused. It was 2:10. She hadn't even been asleep for ten minutes.

"Sorry." Sherlock walked into their bedroom. He tracked snow in on the bottom of his shoes. 

"It's okay. I haven't really been sleeping anyways." Molly stayed propped up on her elbows. She watched as Sherlock finally took off his wet shoes and shrugged as he looked back on the snow trail that was slowly turning to water. "How did tonight go? Any leads?" Sherlock shook his head. He looked irritated. "What?" He tossed his belt on the chair and sat at the end of the bed. 

"I can't see what I'm missing." Molly moved to the edge of the bed, sitting on her knees, her hands on his shoulders. "I know there is something there, but something is blocking it." Molly remembered the first few months of their marriage. He had been so irrational when he was on a case that was giving him trouble, but they had worked together to help him solve his problems in a much more _sensible_ way. 

"Want help?" Molly whispered in his ear.

"Oh yes." He nodded, turning his head and capturing her lips with his. She let out a small moan.

"I hate when you work late." 

"I know."

* * *

 

"Molly?" He practically purred two days later. She didn't respond, just pulled the blankets tighter around her naked body. "Molly?" He tried again. This time she pulled the covers over her head. He smiled at her and pulled the blanks away. "Molly." 

"Sherlock, what?" She groaned in frustration. It was her day off and she didn't want to get out of bed until 8 am, if her bladder would allow it.  

"I found another two houses we could go look at before I have to meet up with Mycroft." He was giving her his fake smile and Molly just wanted to slap it off of his face. 

"No." She rolled back over and took the blankets with her.

"What do you mean no?" The sweetness in his voice replaced with irritation. 

"I didn't expect us to find the perfect house right away, but you haven't had one single good thing to say about any of the ones we have visited." He didn't say anything. "Sherlock. It’s been two months of this." He rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling. She tried to stay there as long as she could, waiting for an answer, but she couldn't hold it anymore. She sighed and got up, basically running to the bathroom. 

"Does this mean we're going?" Sherlock propped himself up on his elbows and called after her.

"No!" She yelled back.

* * *

"Okay. I think I have been patient enough." Molly held in her hands a piece of paper that was folded in half. Sherlock was in the lab at Bart's staring down his microscope. He raised an eyebrow at her. 

"Patient about what?" He asked, coolly. He knew what she was talking about; it had only been three days ago that she asked about the house hunting. 

"Here." She handed him the paper. He took it and read it. In big black letters it read, "Sherlock Holmes is not allowed in this morgue."

"You can't do that." He said going back to his work. 

"Yes. I can." She sat down in the extra chair. "You have already pissed off everyone else who works here. They will only take this all too seriously." She knew he knew that she really wouldn't do it, he was too important for her to stop him from entering the morgue. But the thought still counted. 

"Fine." He pushed away from the desk, crossing his arms across his chest. "I just wanted to prove to you that you can count on me." He sounded like he was talking to Anderson. 

"So buying a car without talking to me meant I could count on you?" She spat. 

"I meant it to be!" He yelled. 

"Well you really instilled confidence in me!" She rolled her eyes dramatically. 

"I wouldn't have to if you weren't afraid that I was going to mess up being a father!" 

"I wouldn't have to be afraid if you just acted normal!" Molly hated herself the minute the words left her mouth. All emotion was drained from his face and just left a rather bored looking Sherlock sitting across from her. He stood up and grabbed his coat. "Sherlock, wait, I didn't" Molly followed him out of the room and saw the end of his coat disappearing through the stairway doors. She opened the door and heard his footsteps echoing. Even if she hadn’t been pregnant she never would have caught up with him. 

That night Molly came home to an empty flat. She tried ringing his mobile but he didn't answer. Ten minutes later she received a text. _Working. Can't talk. Be gone all night._  She could only imagine how many other texts he had thought about sending. 

She didn’t sleep at all that night. She had dressed for bed but just kept replaying the words she had yelled at him. 

The next morning she dressed for work and sat down to eat her breakfast in silence. She had hoped he would be back before she left, but she resigned herself to the contrary as she put on her coat, getting ready to face the cold. She was walking through the living room, when the door to the flat opened. Sherlock stood there staring at his wife looking like a force to be reckoned with. His eyes were almost black and he wore an expression of ‘fuck off’. 

Molly took a step back at seeing him. He didn’t say anything to her as he walked to their bedroom and slammed the door closed. 


	6. Chapter 6

Molly would come home and make dinner. She would dish up two plates and sit down at the table to eat. Sherlock would take the plate and walk back to the living room . At night they would get into bed, not touching. When Molly left for work, he wouldn't even acknowledge she was leaving. When he would come home at night, Molly would avoid making eye contact. They did this for three days straight.    

So many times she had opened her mouth to speak, but just closed it when she got a glimpse of the anger in his eyes. On the fourth morning she finally managed to screw up enough courage to speak while his head was behind a newspaper.  

"My scan is today at 4." She said in a rush. He tilted the paper down and stared at her. Without a word, he lifted it back up. She didn’t push it, instead she got ready for work. She buttoned her coat down to her bump, there was another button at the bottom, but she had given up trying to get it to close. It was the beginning of March and she would be changing it in for a rain jacket soon enough.  

She sighed as she looked at the newspaper in front of his face. She opened the door of their flat and was about to close it when his words reached her ears.  

"I'll see you at 4." His voice was flat and monotone, but it was something. Molly smiled to herself and closed the door behind her.  

* * *

 

"Are we waiting on Mr. Holmes?" The receptionist behind the counter asked Molly.  

"Yes." Molly responded. She had been sitting in the waiting for ten minutes already and it was a little past four. She fidgeted hoping that the doctor wouldn't mind waiting a little longer.  

"Mrs. Holmes?" She looked at the receptionist. It was ten past four now. "We really need to get you settled in your room." Molly nodded and followed the girl back. Molly got herself propped up on the table. The doctor came in got everything all around.  

"Is it okay if we start?" It was already 4:20. Molly nodded yes and removed her shirt. She pushed her work trousers down to below her belly. The doctor started the exam, insuring Molly everything looked fine.  

"Do you want to know what you are having?"  

Molly wanted to wait for Sherlock, but she couldn't take up any more time. She nodded yes. "It's" 

"Sir, you can't just barge in here!" Arguing from the waiting area drifted in. A girl’s voice she didn’t recognize and Sherlock’s competed for being the loudest.

"That's Mrs. Holmes’s husband. She's in room three." Molly recognized the receptionist's voice. The door of Molly's room swung open and Sherlock hurried inside. He closed the door and sat down in the corner chair.  

"Mr. Holmes, how nice of you to join us." Molly's doctor wasn't to found of Sherlock, as the last time they had visited he had insulted her profession.  

"Mhm." He nodded once and folded his arms. Molly tried to smile at him, but he was looking everywhere but her.  

"Okay." She repositioned the view and pointed to the screen. "As I was saying, Molly, you're having a boy."  

After cleaning off her belly and slipping back on her shirt, Molly and Sherlock took the lift down to Morgue. Molly needed to get the rest of her things before they went home. As they walked in silence out of Bart's, Sherlock grabbed Molly's hand and laced with his fingers with her. Molly bit her lip, trying to hide her smile.  

When they got home Molly made dinner. She served up two plates. Sherlock ate with her at the table.  

He didn't still didn't say anything to her that night when he climbed in bed, but after she had put down her book and turned off her lamp, he pulled her close and nuzzled his nose in her hair. She did her best not to cry, but she couldn't help it, she was in no control of her emotions.    

* * *

 

Over the next few weeks Sherlock started talking to her again. Nothing big but, Molly would take it gladly. She wanted so badly to apologize and beg him to forgive her, but anytime she got the courage to ask, he would look at her and she would lose her nerve.  

She was 24 weeks along and she stood in the bathroom weighing herself. She had gained eleven pounds. She sighed and patted her belly. "You better be a big boy because mummy is not enjoying the way her clothes are fitting."  

"Eleven pounds it perfectly normal for being at the end of your 6th month." Sherlock walked in and moved her in front of the mirror. He kneeled down in front of her and measured her thighs. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers skimmed her skin lightly and she coughed, trying to play it off. He looked up at her, but he still wore an expression of indifference. He stood up and measured her hips, belly, and bust. His fingers lingered a moment longer after he had let the tape measure fall away from her bust. "You're measures are good." He said clearing his throat. He turned his back on her and wrote down the numbers. He walked out of the bathroom and into the kitchen.  

"Sherlock?" Molly rubbed her hands, nervously.  

"Yes?" He picked up something on the table and tossed it back down, trying to busy himself. 

"I'm so sorry! I don't know why I" She started sobbing, but was cut off when Sherlock grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her hard. He steered her to the bedroom. When Sherlock let her go and started undressing himself in a hurry, Molly wiped at her eyes and tore off her clothes as well.  

Her belly hadn't been as big the last time they had had sex and both found they needed to do some maneuvering to get things comfortable. 

They lay panting afterwards with their heads on the bed. They had scattered the pillows and blankets off and onto the floor, but neither of them were exactly cold at the moment.  

Molly rolled on her side and cradled her belly with her hand. She reached out her other hand and placed it on Sherlock's arm.  

"Sherlock. I'm so sorr" 

"Please shut up Molly." He scrunched up his eye brows and reached over pulling her to him. She settled her head under his chin. He turned and wrapped his body as best he could around hers. 

* * *

 

"Can I join you?" Sherlock asked sheepishly the next morning. Molly was in the shower and nodded yes. She moved back giving him more room. "I don't want to talk about it yet." He rested his forehead on hers.  

"Okay." Molly ran her hands up and down his arms. They stayed there for a moment, just touching.  

"There used to be more room in here." Sherlock looked down at her belly.  

"Yes there did." She laughed as Sherlock did his best to move around her and into the water stream. She pressed her belly against his back and did her best to wrap her arms around his waist. Sherlock jumped a little as he felt his son kicking him. He turned around, placing both his hands on her bump.  

"I don't think your son is too fond of sharing the space either." Molly laughed.    

 


	7. Chapter 7

Third Trimester, Part One: 

"WHAT? NO!" Molly spat at the telly. It was a Saturday night and Sherlock was still helping Mycroft with the same case. She had been bored and decided to clean out their storage cupboard. She had found some DVD set a friend had given to her a few years ago for her birthday. She had never even heard of the show before, but the friend had insisted Molly would love it. She hadn’t even opened it until four and a half hours ago.  

Now she was sitting on the couch, half way through the first series, eating cookie batter. She had mixed it up, intending to make cookies, but they never made it to the oven. Her feet had been killing her and the batter tasted just as good. In fact, it was the best thing Molly had tasted in a while, she had thought as she grabbed a spoon and waddled over to the couch. She slowly lowered herself down and sat the bowl on her ever growing belly.  

"You can't be with him! He doesn't...he...no!" She shouted again. The door to the flat swung open and there stood Sherlock with a horrified look on his face.  

"What's wrong? Who are you yelling at?" He panicked. It looked like his night had not been as smooth as he had been hoping for earlier. Molly pointed to the telly with her spoon.  

"Cookie batter?" She smiled holding out the spoon to him. He looked down at her and grabbed the bowl away from her. "HEY!"  

"You cannot consume this much cookie batter."  

"And why not?" 

"Did you put eggs in it?" He gave her a pointed look before closing the door and walking to the kitchen.  

"Fine!" She pouted, hugging her belly. She turned off the telly and slowly made her way off the couch and into the kitchen. Sherlock had already turned on the oven and was reading the recipe she had on the counter for how long to bake them. She watched as he dropped the rest of the batter in small heaps on the pan. When he was done he set the bowl in the sink and slid the pan in the oven. "Can I at least lick off the spoon?" Molly eyed the batter covered spoon from across the room. Sherlock reached over and turned on the water, letting it run into the bowl.  

"No."  

 

The next night Molly was sitting on the couch complaining about being hungry still. Sherlock rolled his eyes and wandered into the kitchen. He started banging around and Molly smiled to herself, hoping he was going to make some pancakes (she really wanted pancakes). She turned on the telly and started the series where she had left off the night before.  

Sherlock finally came back in carrying a bowl. She tried to hide her frown seeing it wasn't pancakes.  

"Here." He shoved the bowl in her hands. She looked down. It was cookie batter. She frowned even more.  

"I thought I wasn't allowed to have this?" She looked up at him.  

"This doesn't have eggs in it." He leaned over and took a bite. "Tastes pretty similar."  

"Doubt it." Molly eyed the bowl suspiciously. She slowly picked up the spoon and tried it. It wasn't  _bad._ She continued to nibble on it as they sat on the couch. By the time they went to bed, Molly had all but licked the bowl clean. Sherlock smiled to himself as he placed the bowl in the sink.  

* * *

 

"Baby boy, you better be comfortable in there." Molly sighed to her belly as she recorded her weight. 

"How much now?" Sherlock asked as he leaned in the doorway.  

"A totally of 18 pounds." Molly sighed.  

"For 28 weeks, that is really very good." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. He opened his mouth but shut it again, scrunching up his eyebrows. He turned and walked to the table, sitting down.  

"What?" Molly followed him and sat down too.  

"I..." He blinked at her. "I need to say this without you interrupting me." 

 _Oh, we are going to do this now..._  Molly nodded her head.  

"As I have said before and as you have experienced first-hand, I do not express my feelings with ease. I prefer hard facts, they make sense." He was staring down at his hands, not giving her eye contact. "I......you know that I do not operate under what would be considered the average human standards. You knew that when you agreed to spend the rest of your life with me."  

Molly shifted uncomfortable in her seat. She wanted so bad to just tell him she was sorry and for him to forgive her.  

"You knew how I was when you convinced me to give us a try...I fought so hard to keep my feelings for you a secret because I know that I am not...normal." He swallowed. "You knew me."  

"I do know you, I just-" Molly started, but then shut up when Sherlock looked at her.  

"That day in the lab. I...I felt like you wanted me to be someone else. In your vows." He closed his eyes. Not trying to remember something, but simply urging himself to stay put and deal with what he was uncomfortable with. "In your vows you said you would always love me and accept me for who I am." He watched as a tear feel down Molly's cheek. He watched her quietly for several moments. "Do you want me to be someone else?" Molly blinked at him with a horrid look on her face.  

"NO!" She finally blurted. "I feel in love with you because of who you are!" She got up from where she was sitting and walked over to Sherlock. She wrapped her arms around him, standing awkwardly half bent over. Sherlock pulled her down on his lap and wrapped his arms around her belly, not noticing the extra weight.  

"Then I still don't understand why you said it." He whispered into her hair. 

"I was mad. And hormonal. And you sometimes just push me so far."  

"Because I'm not normal?" He seemed so small to Molly right then and she just wanted to save him. 

"No. Because you’re my husband." She ran her hand over her face, clearing the tears. 

"That doesn't-" 

"Make sense?" Molly asked. He nodded. "Sherlock. Your brain works so differently than everyone else's and I had a hard time keeping up."  

"I try to help." 

"And you do, but every husband pushes his wife too far sometimes, no matter how brilliant he is." She ran her fingers through his hair. Understanding started to wash over his face. "And every wife is going to say something she regrets."  

"You regret ever saying it? Or that you upset me?"  

"Both. I wish I hadn't said it. I wish I hadn't upset you." She planted a kiss in the middle of his forehead.  "I love you. All of you." 

"I love you too." He rubbed his hand up and down her back. The sat in silence for a few minutes before Molly spoke again.  

"I think we both need to keep in mind that our brains work in very difference ways."  

"That would be useful." He nodded.  

 


	8. Chapter 8

Third Trimester, Part Two: 

 

"I found it." Sherlock barged into the bathroom as Molly was showering. He started stripping off his sleepwear and made to get in the shower with her.  

"Do not get in here. There is not enough room." She pushed him back and finished rinsing off. "What did you find?" She asked as she stepped out carefully and wrapped a towel around her hair, exchanging places with Sherlock.  

"A house....our house." He added. Molly rolled her eyes.  

"Sherlock, at this point..." Molly sighed as she dried off her body as best she could around her belly. "I'm 31 weeks pregnant. I don't want to go looking at 20 more houses."  

"Just one more house."  

"One more?" She asked as she failed to wrap the towel around her body.  

"Yes!" He got out of the shower. He ran his towel over his hair, drying it best as he could. "Only one more, promise." His wet curls bounced as he talked excitedly.  

Molly suppressed another sigh and walked to the bedroom, thinking. Sherlock followed behind her, on her heals.  

"You're thinking." He flopped on the bed as Molly wandered to their wardrobe.  

"I'm thinking that I am 31 weeks pregnant." She dropped her towel, showcasing her still growing belly to Sherlock. "If this does happen to be the house for us, by the time we get the keys to the front door in our hands, I will be at least 37 weeks, if not 38 or 39 weeks - practically full term." This time she did sigh as she sat on the edge of the bed. "I won’t be able to help move." Sherlock laid on his side, staring at Molly, the silence eating away at her, but she kept her mouth closed.  

"Come here." Sherlock grabbed her hand and pulled her down on the bed. Molly did her best to lie on her side, staring at her husband. "This is the house." 

"But what - " 

"And if it isn’t which it is." He raised his eyebrows emphasizing his point. "I promise to stop making you look at houses."  

"You promise?" She asked, reaching out and moving a still damp curl off his forehead.  

"At least for a little while." He kissed her softly on the cheek. 

"Okay, but I still won’t be any help in the move." Molly said again.  

"When do you have to be to work?" He asked, trying hard not to smile.  

"Don't give me that look. Last time you asked me that I was late to work."  

"What can I say?" He ran his hand across Molly's thigh, a smile breaking out across his face. "I enjoy my wife's company."  

Molly was indeed late to work. 

* * *

 

"This is it!" Sherlock reassured her.  

"Sherlock, we have been in the back of this cab for almost twenty minutes. Don't you think it’s a bit far from everything?" Molly rubbed her forehead. He had shown up a half hour before her shift was supposed to end. He was driving her so crazy that she begged out early, telling Rory that she wasn't feeling well.  

"That’s why I wanted to get a car." He said softly.  

"I just...shut up!" She pointed at him, as he tried not to laugh at her. "It was still wrong and you shouldn't have done it without talking to me."  

"Here we are!" Sherlock threw some money at the cabbie and shot out of the cab. He came around to help Molly out. She stared at the house as the cabbie drove off. "Isn't it great?" He smiled brightly at the house.  

It was big. Not just big. It was huge! Molly could only guess how many bedrooms and other rooms there were. She was sure they could fit at least four 221B's in there. Her childhood home had been nice, but this was at least twice the size of that.  

"Sherlock!" She breathed.  

"What do you think?" He beamed. She didn't say anything for a long while, just staring. 

"IT’S HUGE!" She finally blurted, angrily.  

"Umm, yes." He wasn't sure why she was angry.  

"Why...why do we need that much room?!?" She felt her chest tighten. "I..I don’t want to clean that much house?!  Heaven knows it’s hard enough to get you to help in our tiny flat!" She felt like she was going to hyperventilate.  

"Molly! Molly, just breathe. Regularly." He locked eyes with her and slowed her breathing, just like they had been practicing. "Come on." He guided her in the house. 

The woman who was there to let them in stared at the pair for a moment.  

"Can we get a moment?" Sherlock flashed her his fake smile. He noticed her eyeing Molly's belly. "She's not going into labor!" He yelled, making the small woman jump. She nodded her head and walked out the front door, leaving it open.  

“Sorry, that was a bit dramatic.” Molly apologized, blushing slightly. Sherlock hummed at her and took her face in his hands, kissing her softly.

“It’s okay.” He mumbled against her lips. He pulled his lips away and settled his forehead against hers. “I promise it’s not as big as it looks.”

“There is no need to lie to me.” She laughed, pulling away from him.

“Want to see the rest?” He asked hopefully. She nodded yes silently.

Sherlock couldn’t help himself. He had a bounce in his step and more energy than a five year old on a sugar rush. He took Molly on a tour of the house, a smile never leaving his face, a rude comment never leaving his mouth.

The living room was the size of theirs at the flat and the kitchen combined, but there was a fire place and Molly had always wanted a fire place. The kitchen was gorgeous. Molly would actually have room to cook and not feel like she was being run over all the time. There were four bedrooms (one even had a bath attached – none of the others had had that).

But what Sherlock was truly excited about was the third floor, which is what made the house seem truly huge.

“But…it’s empty.” Molly was underwhelmed. “It’s a bit disappointing after everything else.” She motioned to the stairs behind her.

“That exactly the point!” He turned back to the space. “This could be my very own home lab!” He walked to the middle of the room.

“No more kitchen lab?”

“Nope.”

“No more body parts in the fridge?”

“Not a one.”

“No more experiments in my microwave?”

“No! I would have all of that up here. A small fridge over here.” He walked around half of the room showing Molly his plans. “A sink here. Microwave. Table. Test tubes and vials.”

“Okay, what about this half?” Molly motioned around her.

“Where John and I would see clients.” He hurried over to wall and revealed a door that opened to a set of stairs that lead down to the ground.

“Oh.” Molly hugged her belly, slightly confused.

“What?” Sherlock closed the door. “Not a good idea?”

“No, no, it’s great!” Molly reached out and grabbed Sherlock’s hand and placed it over the spot their son was kicking. “I just, I always pictured us at Baker Street.”

“If you don’t want to leave, we don’t have to.” Sherlock rubbed her arm.

“I do, but it will be bitter sweet…for me, Baker Street is _Sherlock Holmes_.” She smiled tenderly at him.

“I’m _Sherlock Holmes_.” He said, lowering his voice.

“Oh, believe me, I _know_!” Molly giggled and then sighed. “Are you sure?”

“I just think it’s time to move on. Things change…I’ll miss it.” He said warmly. There were few things in his life that he loved, and Baker Street had always been one. “Most of my favorite moments happened there.”

“I have good memories there too…some not so good ones, but you have more than made up for those.” She squeezed his hand.

“For how long will you keep bringing that Christmas up?” He raised one eyebrow at her. “I have said sorry a multitude of times.”

“For a long time.” She kissed his cheek. “And I did say you had made up for it.” He shook his head at her. “Come on.” She tugged him back down to the second floor, walking through the bedrooms one more time and then down to the main floor, Molly salivating over the fireplace.

“So, what would we fill all those empty rooms with?” She asked as she ran a hand over the smooth surface of the kitchen counter top.

“Kids, I guess.” Sherlock shrugged, making Molly’s eyes go wide. He looked at her. “What? Does that scare you? I, we, one is fine.” He assured her, remembering how relieved she had been when the home pregnancy test had been negative.  

She smiled sweetly at him.

“It doesn’t scare me. I just thought you would only want one.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Well, however many you want. You are the one leasing out your body for nine months, rent free.”

“I would love to fill those bedrooms with kids…” She trailed off, looking around.

“You’re thinking.”

“Can we…can we really afford this?”

“Yes, we can.”

“Actually afford this?” She asked again. He laughed at her.

“Yes. This isn’t the most wanted house out there.” He hushed his voice a little; the lady who had let them in was a little touchy about it. “There was a murder here.”  

“Oh, okay.” Molly shrugged her shoulders slightly, it finally dawning on her. “Most people are bothered by death.”

“Hence the price has been lowered significantly. The murder fact will only keep people away for so long though.” He leaned across the counter, giving her his puppy dog eyes, the best he could.

“Shouldn’t we at least talk about this?” Molly laughed at how silly on idea it was to buy a house after spending only a half hour in it.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Is there more than enough room?”

“Definitely.”

“Will I stay out of your hair with my own lab?”

“No!” She laughed. “You will always be in my hair, but I get your point.”

“So, what should I tell the lady?” He asked quietly as she walked into the kitchen.

“What do you think so far?” She asked brightly.

“We’ll take it.” Molly announced, surprising herself and Sherlock, but neither could be happier.


	9. Chapter 9

Third Trimester, Part Three: 

Molly and Sherlock had started packing the week after they decided to buy the house. It hadn't taken them long to pack up their tiny flat, so for the last two weeks their flat had been amazingly clean. Molly had threatened Sherlock if he dared to mess it up. 

She was 37 weeks and was ready for her body to be evacuated. She had always had a slender frame, even in Uni when she found herself on the couch with a bag of crisps every night studying. But she was now far from slender. Her baby "bump" was more like a small planet - Molly was sure that soon it would have its own gravitational pull. Her breasts had never felt so full in her life, though she knew that they would feel that way, even more so, for at least another year, her having decided to breast feed and all. Her feet were killing her and her ankles were swelling. 

They lay on their bed, the only thing left in the bedroom indicating that people actually lived in the flat. They had just received the keys to their new house three hours pervious and were celebrating the best they could with Molly's giant belly in the way. 

"Thank you." Sherlock grinned at his wife. 

"You're welcome." She gave him a knowing smirk back. They laid in silence, enjoying the emotional high they were both still floating on. "We have a house."

"We have a house." Sherlock agreed. "I already called John and he will go with you tomorrow morning to get the rest of _his_ " Sherlock kissed her belly, "bedroom furniture. Mary and Lestrade are going to help me with the boxes; the truck will be here at nine." 

"I am glad we waited to get the rest of his furniture – we did not need one more box around here." 

"No, we didn't......ready for round two?" He gave her a devilish grin, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Would you be terribly upset if I say no?" She nibbled at her lip. "My body is exhausted." Sherlock didn't answer her. Instead he gave her a determined smile and licked his lips. "Oh!" Molly giggled. "I would be up for that!" 

8:54 am 

"Morning." Molly smiled brightly at their makeshift moving crew. It was almost nine and the truck would be there soon.  

"Hello." Mary gave Molly a small squeeze. 

"Where's Emma?" Molly asked as she sat down in a kitchen chair. 

"Mrs. Hudson has her." John motioned down the stairs. 

"I can't believe Sherlock Holmes is leaving Baker Street." Lestrade gave a throaty chuckle. 

"And by his own design." Molly added. 

"Yes, yes, let's move on from the sentiment." Sherlock scoffed. "The truck should be here any minute." He motioned for Molly to stand up. "And you two need to get going." 

"I still don't see why you had to order the furniture from a store an hour away, in the opposite direction from the house." John grumped.

"It's the best baby furniture store." Sherlock and Molly said in unison, Molly mocking him. He frowned at her. "It is the best." 

"I know." She smiled up at him and placed a kiss on his cheek. "We will see you about noon." 

10:15am

"I was sure that was going to take much longer." John huffed as he stuck the boxed up furniture in the back of the car. 

"I was too." Molly grinned as she got in the car, followed quickly by John.

"How did Sherlock manage to get Mycroft to let him borrow the car?" 

"I don't think he really asked. I think it was more of a 'by the way I have your keys – I'm taking your car'." 

"Sounds about right." They laughed. Molly clutched her side. 

"Hang on, if it is going to be an hour and a half till we get to the house, I need to _go_!"

"All that's left is the bed." Mary pointed to the bedroom. "How can such a small flat have so much stuff?" 

"I like to collect things." Sherlock shrugged at her, as he walked to the bedroom, Lestrade followed behind him. They grabbed the mattress and quickly hulled it down the stairs. The bed frame was another matter. It didn't come apart and it took all three of them to carry it.

"You need to turn it this way!" Lestrade yelled at Sherlock as they were trying to maneuver a corner. 

"No, it needs to go to your right." Mary said through gritted teeth.

"Just tilt it a little more!" Sherlock argued back. 

"I wish I had gone with Molly." Mary sighed. "I'm pretty sure those boxes would have weighed less than this." Sherlock shot her a look to shut up. 

After a little more arguing and pushing, the bed frame was outside and into the truck, filling it full. 

"I'm going to go get a drink of water from Mrs. Hudson before we leave." Mary made her way back into the building. Lestrade and Sherlock followed her lead for the first time that morning. 

11:09 am 

"Just great!" John threw his hands in the air. They were taking a different route back to the house. Sherlock had mapped it all out for them. Had they gone back the way they came, it would have added twenty more minutes onto their trip. John was wishing for the extra twenty minutes. 

"What?" Molly's eyes shot open; she had drifted off ten minutes after their departure.

"The roads closed." John sighed, feeling guilty for waking a pregnant woman. He pulled the car into a petrol station. "I'll go in and get new directions."

"I'll join you." Molly needed to stretch and felt like she could empty her bladder again. "Here." Molly handed John her wallet as the entered the building. "Fill the car up while we’re here." 

"And you found this?" Lestrade asked again.

"Yes." Sherlock clenched his jaw, why was that so hard for people to understand.

"Well Sherlock, this is amazing." Mary spun slowly around in a circle in the middle of the living room. 

"Yup!" He agreed. "You want to see the best part?" His eyes were wide as he tried to control his excitement. 

11:22 am

"I think I understand what he was saying." John stared at the messy map made on a napkin with the directions.

"He was nice!" 

"He was a little… _dull._ " John said as he drove away from the petrol station. 

"That was a nice way of putting it." Molly laughed. 

"That was underwhelming." Mary said as they descended the stairs to the second floor. 

"That's what Molly said." Sherlock said under his breath.

"Molly wrote on each box, right? Where to put it?" Mary asked, not having really paid attention as they loaded the truck. Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. 

"Helpful." Lestrade scoffed at him. 

11:51 am

            “We should be getting close by now, but none of this looks right.” Molly sighed as she looked out the window at a field, they were lost and in the middle of nowhere. 

“Perfect.” John grabbed the napkin directions and tried to figure out where he had gone wrong. “Okay…I’m going to turn around.” 

“Okay…ow!” Molly pressed her hand to the underside of her belly. 

“Are you okay?” John looked worried. 

“Yea, just some cramping.” She gave him a tight smile before he turned his eyes back on to the road. 

“Well, I think we need to go back a little ways, I think I missed this last turn, here.” He pointed to the words on the napkin. Molly just nodded, trying to focus on relaxing her body. “I think I was just so –” There was a loud bang noise and the car jerked to the left. “SHIT!” John got control of the car and pulled it off the road. 

“Flat?” Molly managed to ask. 

“Yeah.” John turned off the car and got out. He closed the door hard and examined the front tire. 

Molly decided that it might be a good idea to try and stretch out a little, hoping the cramping might stop. She got out, pulling on her jacket. She was glad she had brought it – the sun had been out earlier, but it was London and the sky was filling with clouds. 

John was rummaging around in the boot frantically. Molly walked around a little, feeling slightly better. She heard he slam it shut. She turned around and raised an eye brow at him in question. 

“The only tires we have are on the car now.” He dug his hand in his pocket and pulled out his mobile. “Fuck! No power.” He shoved it back into his pocket and looked at Molly. She reached into her purse, waiting for her hand to hit it. She reached around some more not finding it. She sat her purse on the car and opened it wide, digging around nervously. 

“I, I don’t have it!” She dumped everything out and spread it around – her mobile wasn’t there. “I can’t believe I don’t have it!” She shoved everything back in her purse, mad at herself. 

“Well, I guess I’ll start walking. I am bound to run into someone.” John was being extremely optimistic; they hadn’t seen any other people for at least twenty minutes. 

“Okay, I can come with you.” Molly hiked her purse up on her shoulder, feeling the first few drops of rain on her forehead. 

“No. You stay here.” He looked up. “It’s obviously going to start raining and you shouldn’t be walking far right now.” She nodded to him as the rain drops got bigger. She turned to get in the car and stopped dead in her tracks. 

“JOHN!” Her voice cracked as she turned slowly around. He looked nervously back at her as the rain started coming down harder. “My water just broke!” 

“Molly is so organized!” Mary smiled as she brought boxes into the empty house. 

“Yes, I know.” Sherlock didn’t always find that particular trait of hers admirable. 

“Oh, just because organization repulses you doesn’t mean it’s bad!” Mary teased him. Sherlock just rolled his eyes. 

“She’s right.” Lestrade added as he walked past. 

“Thanks _Geoff_.” Sherlock spat in annoyance. 

12:04 pm

John sat in the driver seat, desperately pushing buttons on his mobile, trying to get it to work while Molly sat in the back of the car with her feet up and her back against the door. She had already kicked off her shoes and was rubbing nervous circles on her belly. She wasn’t ready for this. Not now. Not here. Not without Sherlock. 

John threw his mobile in the empty seat next to him. He rubbed his forehead. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay.” Molly whispered. 

“Any contractions?” 

“Not yet.” Molly breathed deeply through her nose, listening to the rain pounding on the glass of the windows. _Not without Sherlock._

12:43 pm 

“Shouldn’t they have been here already?” Lestrade asked as they were bringing in the last few boxes. Mary looked at her watch and frowned. 

“Yes. I’ll ring John and ask him where they are.” Mary pulled out her mobile and dialed the number without thinking. Sherlock watched her. “No answer.” 

“Try Molly.” Sherlock prompted. Mary nodded and dialed. They heard a quiet noise coming from one of the boxes on the kitchen counter. Sherlock walked over and ripped the box open. There was Molly’s mobile. 

“It must have fallen in when she was packing the last of our plates last night.” He sighed and sat it on the counter next to the box. 

“I’m sure their fine.” Lestrade clapped his hands. “Let’s finish with the boxes and then we can worry. Besides, it looks like it might start to rain.”

1:17 pm

Molly had discarded her panties and trousers when her first contraction hit. In some faux sense of privacy her jacket was spread over her knees. She clenched her jaw as a contraction hit, gripping the shoulder of the front seat hard. Labor wasn’t like what you watched in the movies – much less screaming and commotion. Of course there was pain, loads of pain, but Molly had decided a long time ago that this was what her body was supposed to do and damn her if she wasn’t going to do it! 

“Good. That was good Molly.” John had transitioned into doctor mode and his bedside manner was impeccable. He pushed the hair out of Molly’s eyes and breathed in rhythm with her. “I need to see how you are progressing.” John reached down, measuring her. He frowned. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Molly started worrying. 

“Nothing’s wrong. You’re just progressing much faster than I would have guessed for your first pregnancy.” Molly leaned her head back against the cool glass and groaned. “You may not be in labor for long.” 

“No!” She choked out. “I don’t want to give birth in the back of a car without my husband!” 

“You know they will figure out that something is wrong.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “They will come looking for us – they will.” 

2:01 pm

“Something isn’t right.” Mary worried at her thumb nail.

“I’m sure John has just gotten them lost – you know how bad he is with directions.” Lestrade was stretched out on the couch with his feet up on a couple of boxes.

“I wrote them out perfect directions. They were John proof. They probably ran into a storm and had to slow down.” Sherlock straightened the clock he had just finished hanging.

“Something isn’t right.” Mary said again. “Sherlock, I have already put away all of your kitchen boxes, Molly’s clothes, and most of her books!”

“What time is it?” He asked as he turned the hands on the clock.

“Two.” Lestrade said, looked down at his mobile. Sherlock stopped twisting the hands and realized how much time had passed.

“I’ll call Mycroft. His car has a tracking unit in it.”

 

2:48pm

“We don’t have a name.” Molly sighed, watching the water pouring down the windows. Despite the fact that they were trapped in the car because of the rain, she found the noise to be calming.

“You two haven’t settled on a name?” John asked surprised.

“No. We had decided to name him when we saw him, together.” Molly fell silent and grabbed the seat again. Her contractions were getting closer together. “I can’t name him without Sherlock.” She said when the pain wave was gone.

“You won’t have to.” John reassured her.

 

“How did they get all the way out there?” Sherlock wrinkled his nose. “That is nowhere near the route I had laid out for them.” He and Mary were at Mycroft’s house. Lestrade had gotten a call and left muttering something about how stupid Anderson was being.

“How am I supposed to know?” Mycroft asked sarcastically. 

“We need to borrow another one of your cars.” Sherlock growled, walking away from Mycroft’s desk.

“I think not. Who knows what they did to that car to get it stuck there.”

“Molly is 37 weeks pregnant!” Mary shouted at him. Sherlock felt the anger welling up in him. He closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose – Molly would not approve of him punching Mycroft in the face, no matter how unbelievable his was being. Sherlock opened his eyes and looked down. There were three sets of keys on the small table. Sherlock smirked and picked up the last set.

“Mary, we must be going.” Mary nodded, understanding. “Mycroft, thank you for the car.” He gave his brother a fake grin and a salute with the hand holding the keys, disappearing faster than Mycroft could stand up.

 

3:22 pm

The rain had finally lightened up to just a drizzle, but John couldn’t leave her now.

“Molly, you are going to need to push soon.” John was sure she was almost fully dilated, granted, this was not his specialty.

“No! He has to wait for Sherlock.” She swallowed hard. “Sherlock needs to be here.” John gave her a sad look. He had run out of encouraging things to say and understand why she was feeling the way she was feeling.

“Not yet. Not yet.” was all John could think of. He rested his forehead against the head rest and closed his eyes, thinking.

 

3:46 pm

“John, look.” Molly was watching out the front window. “Head lights!” His head snapped up and pushed the door open.

“I’ll be right back.” He assured her closing the door, only getting Molly’s feet wet from the rain. He ran towards the car as fast as he could, but the car came to a halt and the front doors were thrown open.

“JOHN?” He heard his name as Sherlock jumped out of the car and ran at him frantically, his curly hair flattening from the rain. “Where’s Molly? What’s going?” Mary didn’t say anything, but just ran to John and threw her arms around his neck.

“Her water broke and she’s been in labor. I think it’s almost time for her to push.”  Sherlock didn’t wait for him to say anything more and took off towards the car. He grabbed the handle on the door and ripped it open.

“Molly.” He sighed happily and crawled in the back seat with his wife.

“Sherlock?!” She hadn’t cried yet, but seeing him, broke her and she let several big tears roll down her cheek. “I didn’t want to do this without you.” She sobbed.

“I’m here.” He reached out, taking her face in his hands and kissed her. “I’m here.”

“I know.” She grabbed his hands and held tight as her happy tears rolled over their fingers. “Thank you.” She whispered. They sat for a moment, just holding each other, not saying anything. “Okay.” Molly exhaled. “I need you to get behind me.” Sherlock kissed her again and climbed out of the car.

“We need you.” He said to John and Mary who had been giving them a moment. Mary got in the front seat, while John climbed in across from Molly. Sherlock opened the door the Molly had been leaning on slowly and wedged himself in around her.

“I think I’m ready.” Molly nodded to John. He leaned down and measured her again.

“I think so too.” He looked at Mary and Sherlock, who both nodded back. Mary helped Molly raise her right leg up and held her foot in place. Sherlock laced his fingers with Molly’s and kissed her shoulder.

“You can do this.” He whispered.

“On three, I want you to push.” Molly nodded at John. “One…two..three.”

 

4:18 pm

“He’s perfect.” Molly was holding their sleeping son in her arms while Sherlock held her in his. Mary had helped Molly back into her trousers so she was at least covered and John had cleaned up the back seat as best as possible before leaving the two of them to enjoy their new bundle. The rain had almost stopped, but John didn’t really want Molly moving to the other car yet.

“He is.” Sherlock rubbed his thumb lightly over his son’s head. He was wrapped in John’s jumper, telling them it was his first ‘birthday’ present and they should keep it. “You did amazing.” Sherlock kissed Molly’s temple. “He needs a name.” He whispered.

“I’ve been thinking. What about Watson?” She raised her eye brows at Sherlock, who scrunched his together.

“I thought I couldn’t name him after John?”

“Well, John did a lot for me, for us, today.” She smiled.

“Watson?” Sherlock looked down at their son. “Watson Scott Holmes?”

“Perfect, just like him.” Molly nodded.

 

“So, what name did you decide on?” John and Mary had slid back into the front seats. Sherlock smirked at Molly, nodding at her.

“Watson Scott Holmes.”

“That’s not going to get confusing at all…but thank you.” John’s grinned stretched across his face. Mary reached over and squeezed his hand.

“It only seemed fitting.” Molly smiled. “So, can I get out of this car and into a clean one?”

“Yea.” Mary smiled. “Hold on and we will bring it closer.” The two of them disappeared again.

“Here.” Molly motioned for Sherlock to take Watson, but he slide to the other side of the car. “Sherlock?”

“I…he is just so fragile. What if I do it wrong?” His voice was soft.

“You won’t.” Molly nodded encouragingly at him. He slid back towards her and held his breath as Molly placed his son in his arms for the first time. “He is so tiny.” Molly smiled at the pair.

“Come on Mr. Holmes. Let’s take our son home.” 


End file.
